


felt you in my legs (before i even met you)

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: Matt’s the first girl she’s ever kissed. As soon as they met, Foggy wanted it to be her. It’s like a dream come true.But then Matt stops.She pulls away.She laughs wetly and makes sure she isn’t touching Foggy at all, looking stiff and scared.“Sorry,” she says, gasping out a breath. Foggy’s never seen her cry before. “I shouldn’t–I shouldn’t have."
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 171





	felt you in my legs (before i even met you)

**Author's Note:**

> heavily influenced by my baby gay brain only this is more catholic
> 
> note the tags! the alcohol bit is more of an undertone, the internalized homophobia is the whole damn thing

The first time that Matt kisses her, softly determined face dipping close to Foggy’s, Foggy can’t shut her eyes because she’s afraid she’ll miss something or this is some kind of joke like–like Matt’s gonna headbutt her or shove a pie in her face but Matt wouldn’t do either of those things. Partially because she’s not a cartoon character but also because she wouldn’t ever hurt Foggy. 

She was also pretty sure that Matt wouldn’t ever kiss her either but–Matt kisses her. She tastes like vodka and Red Bull. Foggy never wants to stop. 

Matt’s the first girl she’s ever kissed. As soon as they met, Foggy wanted it to be her. It’s like a dream come true. 

But then Matt stops. 

She pulls away.

She laughs wetly and makes sure she isn’t touching Foggy at all, looking stiff and scared.

“Sorry,” she says, gasping out a breath. Foggy’s never seen her cry before. “I shouldn’t–I shouldn’t have." 

"I didn’t mind,” Foggy says, gently, reaching out to touch her arm and dropping her hand immediately when Matt jerks away like it’s involuntary, turning her head so Foggy can hardly see her wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Matt says. “You’re just–I just–" 

She makes a frustrated noise, collapsing backward to sprawl out on the bed and cover her face with her hands. 

"You know,” Foggy says, lying down next to her, a few inches between them. “I was trying to be cool when I said I didn’t mind. I liked it a lot, Mattie. Like–I’d like to kiss you again in the immediate future if you’re into it." 

Foggy doesn’t know how Matt is going to react to that but then there’s a hiccupy sob and Matt’s turning to wrap an arm around Foggy and bury her face in her shoulder. Foggy’s familiar with cuddly drunk Matt but this is different. Matt feels small and miserable in her arms, shaking. 

"I just got too drunk,” Matt murmurs, when she calms down a little. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

Foggy didn’t realize her heart was in a position to break but it feels like it tears open just a little, at least.

“It’s okay, Matt,” she says, rubbing her back. “We can forget about it." 

"Okay,” Matt says, softly. 

Figuring that Matt probably won’t want to wake up this close to her when she’s more sober, Foggy waits until she falls asleep to carefully move Matt off of her and gets up to collapse on her own bed and pull her sheets around her, trying not to cry, too.

*

Matt’s gone when Foggy wakes up, which doesn’t feel great but is also kind of a relief. Hopefully, Matt isn’t gone forever but they’ll never have to awkwardly not talk about what happened last night if she is, so—whatever. She’s considering tying all their sheets together and escaping out the window herself when she hears Matt fumbling with her keys.

“You awake?” Matt asks, softly, pushing her way into the room with a cup of coffee in one hand, another cradled in her elbow.

“Kind of,” Foggy says, yawning.

“I—uhm, come bearing gifts,” Matt says, smiling as she hands over one of the cups. “I went to the early mass, thought you might still be in bed.” 

“Oh, right, it’s Sunday,” Foggy says. “Good timing, I guess?”

Matt goes still before she makes a noise that resembles a laugh, turning away to sit her own cup down on her desk and unbutton her sweater.

“Because I kissed you?” she asks, with her back to Foggy.

“Sorry, that was a weird thing to say,” Foggy says, sighing. “We weren’t going to talk about it.”

She wants to talk about it almost as much as she doesn’t want to talk about it. Kissing girls is exhausting.

“We can talk about it,” Matt says, kicking off her flats. She always dresses like a kid when she goes to church, black tights and a knee length sundress, cardigan left behind on her bed when she turns around again. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve not done stupider things when I’m drunk.”

Ouch.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, wrapping her arms herself. “I guess that time you almost fell off a balcony was a worse choice than kissing me.”

That was a bad night. But this isn’t a great morning.

“Foggy, I didn’t mean it like that, I just wasn’t—thinking straight,” Matt says, sighing.

“Literally,” Foggy murmurs, into her coffee cup.

Matt laughs and moves to sit next to her on her bed, a few inches between them.

“From what I can remember, it was a nice kiss,” she says, smoothing her hand over Foggy’s sheets without touching her and drawing out her words like she’s thinking carefully about what to say. “I’m just not— you know.”

“…into girls,” Foggy says. 

Matt nods.

“Yeah,” she says, a little softer.

“Did you, like, confess?” Foggy asks.

She can’t help herself. Some part of her needs to know whether Matt thinks that what they did was more than stupid. If she thinks that it was _wrong_.

“I prayed,” Matt says, shrugging a little. “Are you feeling weird about it?” 

“I’m into girls,” Foggy says, unplanned but all her cards are basically on the table. She may as well have told Matt that she wanted to keep kissing her forever and also have her babies last night. “You didn’t like– _turn_ me or anything, but–I am. Do _you_ feel weird about that _?”_

“Of course not,”Matt says, after hesitating.

She _hesitates_. 

Foggy’s heart breaks just a little bit more.

*

The next time Matt says anything about it, she’s drunk again and Foggy isn’t. It seems like Matt’s been getting very drunk very frequently, but she gets defensive when she thinks that Foggy’s keeping track of her so Foggy tries to back off as much as she can. They’re freshmen, after all, and freshmen are dumb like that.

And Foggy knows when to stick with one drink to make sure Matt gets home safe with her rather than any of the dudes who keep their eye on how many drinks she’s had for way different reasons.

“Hey, Fog,” Matt says, a soft coo to her voice, stumbling over their rug before she makes it to Foggy’s bed. “Can I—”

“Uhm, sure,” Foggy says. “Good party?”

“Boring,” Matt says, smiling wide and sweet as she climbs up onto Foggy’s bed, kicking off her heels so they hit the floor one by one. “Without you, I mean. You should’ve come.”

“Studying waits for no one,” Foggy says, shifting over to give Matt room to sit next to her, tucked up against her side.

“I missed you,” Matt says, tipping her head toward Foggy. Her glasses are hooked in the v-neck of her t-shirt, pulling it down in a distracting way, and the eyeliner Marci probably put on her is smudged all the way around her eyes. They occasionally reach enough of a ceasefire in their academic and occasionally interpersonal warfare that she’ll let Marci dress her up.

“I saw you four hours ago,” Foggy says, smiling when Matt laughs, a soft giggle.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, reaching up to find Foggy’s hair before she slips her fingers into it, combing them through before she plays with the ends. She does that when she’s drunk a lot, too, but her face goes shuttered and strange now, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“What’s up, Mattie?” Foggy asks, touching her bare arm cautiously.

“I wanna kiss you again,” Matt says, softly. Foggy can barely hear her.

“You’re _very_ drunk,” Foggy says.

“All the time, Foggy,” Matt says, a little louder, turning away from her. “Not—I’m not drunk all the time but I want to kiss you— _all_ the time. It _hurts_.”

“Why does it hurt?” Foggy asks. She gets it because she wants to kiss Matt all the time, too, but she had no idea that Matt was hurting. Maybe she can’t read her that well after all.

“Because I can’t,” Matt says, dropping her hand and crossing her arms over her chest, hugging herself a little.

“I already told you I’d like to kiss you again,” Foggy says, cautiously, wanting to touch Matt but worried that she won’t like it. “I haven’t brought it up because you said you weren’t—into it.”

“No, I just can’t—I can’t be—” Matt starts, gasping for air before she stops and shakes her head, climbing off Foggy’s bed carefully and attempting a smile. “Sorry, it’s fine. ‘m just pretty drunk.”

“I’ve been drunk at you _many_ times, babe,” Foggy says, smiling back but desperately wanting to ask Matt if she might really be bi or gay or—whatever else that’s making her sound like she’s being ripped apart over it. “I don’t mind at all.”

“Thanks, Foggy,” Matt says. “I’m gonna pass out. Just—thanks.”

Foggy waits until Matt’s in bed until she gets up to turn off the light, until she’s in bed herself and can hear Matt’s soft snoring before she lets out a long, tired breath.

*

“Oh my _god_ , you’re my favorite,” Matt says.

She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, shoulder-length hair in a wild tangle on her head, when Foggy comes back to the dorm with coffee and greasy breakfast burritos.

“I figured if you were alive by the time I got back,” Foggy says, “you might need sustenance.”

“I feel like I ran headfirst into a wall,” Matt says, smiling weakly before she really rips into the burrito. If Foggy’s crush wasn’t this strong, this image of Matt might kill it a little but she somehow falls even harder every time she sees Matt looking like a total mess.

“I think you just tried to outdrink Marci,” Foggy says.

“Fatal mistake,” Matt agrees, with her mouth full. “Did I annoy you when I came home?”

“You don’t remember?” Foggy asks, after a beat.

“. . .oh, god, what did I do?” Matt asks, laughing even though she sounds genuinely nervous.

“Oh, nothing,” Foggy says. “Just—adorable drunken rambling. The usual.”

“Are you sure?” Matt asks.

Foggy can’t tell her that she knows the idea of wanting to kiss a girl—of Foggy, in particular—is making Matt miserable. Not if Matt didn’t actually want her to know.

“Totally,” Foggy says. “You _barely_ even embarrassed yourself.”

Matt snorts softly.

“I’ll take it,” she says.

*

Foggy wasn’t actually planning to hook up with Marci but it definitely happens, after an abandoned study session and Marci’s long fingers running up her thigh, and then they’re sort of dating. They’re not official or anything but they’re together a lot and Marci’s taken a particular liking to Foggy’s bed.

“You can just put a sock on the door,” Matt says, one day, when she walked in on them making out. “There’s a tactile element to it which’ll definitely still work for me.”

“We were just kissing,” Foggy says.

“That’s fine,” Matt says; she’s only been back for ten minutes and Marci was still there for five of them but she’s already packing her bag again like she’s going to leave. “I just don’t want to, like—be here while you do it, y’know?”

“We will never intentionally make out in front of you, Matt,” Foggy says, laughing a little even though there’s worry growing in her stomach.

“Marci might,” Matt mutters.

“. . .what are you talking about?” Foggy asks, freezing.

“It’s nothing,” Matt says, immediately, lifting her bag up to sling it over her shoulder, face tight.

“No, wait, did Marci say something to you?” Foggy asks.

“She thinks I’m, like—homophobic or something,” Matt says, turned away, fiddling with a pencil on her desk. “Probably because I’m Catholic and don’t particularly like her.”

Foggy sighs.

“It’s not homophobic to not want to be the third wheel in a hot lesbian makeout session,” she says, feeling a little better when Matt huffs out a laugh like she’s kind of surprised by it. “I’ll tell her to fuck off about it.”

“It’s fine,” Matt says, smiling when she turns around. “I really don’t care what Marci thinks about me. As long as you know that I don’t mind, right?”

“Right,” Foggy echoes—but she hesitates, and she can see the way that Matt’s face falters for a second.

“Uhm—good. Anyway, I’m gonna grab dinner to go and head back to the library,” Matt says, quickly. “See you later?”

“Yeah, see you,” Foggy says, waiting until she’s sure that Matt’s gone before she flips over and buries her face in her pillow to scream. She barely knows what she’s doing with Marci and they’re mostly just having sex. She has no _idea_ what to do with Matt.

*

“I’m not upset,” Foggy says, but she sounds like she’s about to cry and it’s obvious from the alarm on Matt’s face that she can tell. “We weren’t even dating, we were just, like, hooking up.”

“Hold that thought,” Matt says, holding her hands up for a second before she’s going to dig underneath her bed and pull out a bottle of cheap screwcap wine. “Let’s start with this.”

“We’ll have to stop solving our problems with alcohol someday,” Foggy says.

“That’s for after graduation,” Matt says, raising the bottle with a half-smile.

“. . .yeah, okay, bring it here,” Foggy sighs.

Not long after, they’re both buzzed and warm, sitting close to each other on Foggy’s bed. Marci and her had been fighting for awhile so she’s not really surprised that it finally exploded. She’s also not surprised that it was about Matt—about Foggy clearly being in love with her straight roommate—but she’s keeping that to herself.

“I’m better off alone, anyway,” she says, after she finishes the bottle of wine off and lets it slip from her fingers to drop to the carpet. “Who needs—affection and sex and happiness? Not me.”

“You’ll find that with someone else,” Matt says, insistently, moving closer to slip an arm around her waist. “You’re amazing, Foggy.”

“. . .yeah?” Foggy asks.

Matt’s smile is soft when Foggy turns to see her better.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

If Foggy wasn’t in such a stupid state, she would back off, but everything _sucks_ right now and she just want to feel better and Matt—Matt wants to _kiss her_. She meets Foggy halfway when Foggy turns to press their mouths together, making a soft sweet noise that Foggy wants to hear over and over again. Matt’s straddling her lap by the time they part to catch their breath, their foreheads resting together.

“I’m sorry,” Foggy says, running fingers through her hair. “Is this—is this okay?”

“I don’t know,” Matt says, after a moment, “but I—I want—”

“What do you want, Mattie?” Foggy asks, when Matt draws off, raising her head enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“You,” Matt says. “Just you.”

“. . .that works,” Foggy says, swallowing hard and flipping Matt onto her back to keep kissing her.

*

The next morning, Foggy wakes up to Matt climbing out of her bed, her skin pale in the dim light as she finds her clothes on the floor and gets dressed.

“Are you leaving me?” Foggy asks. “Talk about abandonment issues.”

“I was thinking of going for a run,” Matt says, smiling faintly as she stands up and pulls her t-shirt down. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Are we gonna talk about last night?” Foggy asks.

“Sure,” Matt says, too brightly. “When I come back.”

“Matty,” Foggy says, sitting up and pulling the sheets around her, feeling extremely naked even though Matt can’t see her—just the fact that she _knows_. “I’m really worried that you’re going to start running and never come back. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Matt looks lost for a long moment before she says, cautiously, “I’m worried that what we did was wrong because I—I _really_ don’t want it to be wrong.”

“Because of, like—Jesus?” Foggy asks; Matt sighs and turns away and Foggy continues, quickly, “Wait, no, I’m being serious. Nothing about that felt wrong to me, Matt. What would make it wrong?”

She gets up to get dressed quickly as Matt says, “I don’t want to, like, put my shit on you. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I don’t know, I feel like I played a pretty big role last night,” Foggy says, grateful when Matt smiles, cheeks going pink. “Just a second, I’m gonna hug you.”

Matt hugs her back immediately and Foggy buries her face in Matt’s neck, holding on tight.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Mattie,” she murmurs. “I promise. You’re—you’re _so_ good.”

“I’m not,” Matt says, faintly, “but thanks.”

“Because you’re gay?” Foggy asks, pulling back just enough to see Matt flinch a little, adding, “Or—bi or whatever.”

“I think I’m gay,” Matt says, then laughs suddenly, loud in Foggy’s ear. “Fuck, I’ve never said it. _Fuck_. I’ve tried really hard not to do that.”

“To say it?” Foggy asks.

“And to _be_ it,” Matt asks, still laughing. “If you weren’t so wonderful and— _present_ , it would probably be easier.”

“I just can’t help how wonderful I am,” Foggy says, running her hands down Matt’s arms to take her hands, lacing their fingers together. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me, too, Mattie?”

“ _No_ ,” Matt says, immediately, struggling for words. “Of _course_ not. I’m just—I’m supposed to be—fuck, I don’t even know anymore, Foggy. I just want to get back in bed with you and never get out.”

“You’re supposed to be happy,” Foggy says, firmly, “and—yeah, definitely in bed with me. Let’s do that.”

Matt takes a half step back, just enough that Foggy can see her blushing face before Matt is kissing her again, just a soft press of their lips together.

“Let’s do that,” she agrees, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> and then matt gets therapy and they live happily ever after The End!!! 
> 
> i'm writing matt/foggy fic apparently forever on [tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com)


End file.
